


Interview with a Raccoon

by neutrondecay



Series: Fic from the Draft Game [4]
Category: Marvel (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Different Powers, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Deutsch | German, Draft Game, F/F, IN SPACE!, Lesbian Vampires, Space Ninjas, Undead, Zombies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-07
Updated: 2016-11-07
Packaged: 2018-08-29 18:44:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,728
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8501131
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/neutrondecay/pseuds/neutrondecay
Summary: A New York news reporter meets a band of notorious space mercenaries for an interview. What could possibly go wrong?





	

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was written for an RPGnet draft game entitled 'Marvel 75-B'. It was a classic-format shared universe draft, in which players mashed up characters' civilian names with different heroic identities or new backgrounds, to create a novel but derivative setting. What follows is only my part of it, so a little scene-setting is in order, based on the other players' picks: the current setting date is 2016, but there has been significantly greater human space activity in the 20th century than in our own history. This has contributed to the balkanisation of several major nations including Japan and the USA, and the establishment of an 'Earthican Star Empire' with terrestrial holdings scattered among the remnants of these nations. Unrelatedly, Thor died in battle in the Free City of New York about 10 years ago. Tony Stark went missing after his alcohol problems led to him losing control of Stark Industries. And Charles Xavier is the Immortal Iron Fist - because a lot of minor superpowers in this setting are _qi_ -based, unleashed on humanity after the death of an ancient martial artist known as the False Dragon.

"The life of a space mercenary is a tough one, let me tell you -"

_\- a flash of light, the roar of caseless ammunition igniting in flight -_

"- and all I'm trying to do here, right, is get to the bar where I'm meeting my crew. Who insisted on somewhere walking distance from a spacedock. Which is why -"

_\- a flying leap, a hail of bullets, a number of dull thudding noises -_

"- which is why we are in this stinking cargo hangar, being shot at by some hack mercenaries whose employer I probably cheated at some point in the past umpty-mumble years. Now, I don't want to breach the outer wall - that's that one - 'cos that's a terrible idea on a space station. So instead, I'm gonna roll this little beauty over into the landing gear of that Kree-built freight shuttle, count to three, and then -"

_\- a deafening bang, the sound of bending and tearing metal, followed by an almighty crash -_

"- we no longer have to trouble ourselves with being shot at by those guys ever again. People ask me, 'How have you lived so long? Did the guy who gave you the power of speech also make you immortal?' And I say, it beats the hell out of me. I'm not a ninja alchemist, and I never will be. But although I have lived many times as long as others of my kind, I mainly attribute my long life to my truly astounding skills at _not being killed_. As you've just seen, I'm one of the best.

"Oh, hey, duck. Too late? Eh, the bruise will go down in a week or so. What? I watch where I'm walking, not where you're walking.

"Did I tell you about the time I went to Tortuga? Not yet? Well, wait till we get to the bar. I tell it better with accompaniment. What I need right now is ID. Down that corridor is a customs agent who is not going to be unduly worried about the explosions in here - we didn't breach the hull, after all - but who cares a great deal about signed and stamped paperwork. Now you'd think that seeing as I'm a unique miracle of nature and unpleasant alchemical shit, I'd be pretty recognisable. But that agent isn't going to care about all that. The last person he saw was probably a one-of-a-kind mutant or something too. And that is why I have fake ID. Like this one, which claims I escaped from a lab on Long Island.

"That one? The FreeState Edo one? No, that's my _real passport_. One of them, at least. I'm a citizen of Free Edo by thingy, _jus soli_. Seeing as I was born there in about 1560 _see ee_. It says my name is _Bohiya no Tanuki_ , true enough, but most folk now call me **Rocket Raccoon**."

Beyond the jaded customs agent was the entrance to a packed bar.

"Hey, Professor!"

"Hello, Rocket. You've fired three of your weapons. You had company on the way in?"

"Nothing I couldn't handle. More of an insurance problem, really."

"And this is the reporter?"

"That's right. You can do introductions while I go to the bar. Are the others here yet?"

"No. Her Ladyship should be here soon. I'm still trying to raise the rest."

"Well, stay cool. They'll come. I'm buying, for one thing."

"'Stay cool', he says. He doesn't like it when I'm angry."

Rocket laughed bitterly. "Not half so much as our enemies dislike it. But he fights better when he's calm. Let me tell you - one time we were running supplies into Free DC during the blockade, we suffered a grav failure during combat. The Prof here took the opportunity to punch four goons at once. Violence considered as one of the fine arts - which I do."

"Rocket, Rocket. If our enemies played me at chess, they'd lose just as fast. But for some reason you keep getting us jobs where the other side have plasma arcs, not grandmasters."

"Yeah, there's a universal shortage of hoodlums who attack with board games. Besides - look at you. Anyone would let you win. What are you drinking, big guy?"

"Scotch. Ardbeg, if they have it. Milk for you again?"

"Contrary to popular folklore, I do not go everywhere craving saké, so yeah. You'll have the same as the Professor? Good."

The shaggy-haired mercenary watched the tanuki weaving through the crowd towards the bar, and then delicately extended a pale blue hand.

"How do you do? I apologise for my colleague's sense of humour. I haven't been a tenured professor since my accident. But I am Dr Bruce Banner, for all that I look a Beast."

"Pleased to meet you, Dr Banner - Megan McLaren, MCNY News. Did Rocket fill you in on why I'm here?"

"He said you were filming a documentary. Aren't you still MCNY's main Manhattan correspondent, though?"

"Of course. But I'm trading my Friday slot for a weekly documentary strand, and you're going to be the main segment in my second episode."

Bruce raised a straggly blue eyebrow. "Not the premiere, then?"

Megan shook her head. "No - I'd have liked to, but the execs have asked me to begin with 'The Death of Thor - Ten Years On'."

"A sign of continuity?"

"Something like that. It's a painful topic for me, but I'll admit that being on the scene in Central Park that day was a big boost to my career. I can't fault the station for wanting to make something of that."

"You certainly managed to be in the right place at the right time."

"I know... it's something of a talent I've got. A knack for seeing things coming. A sort of preview, if you will."

"All right, so we're episode two." Banner resumed. "What's the hook?"

"The truth about free spacers. We've got an embedded reporter with the ESE navy, but viewers only hear about people like you when there's a big story going on - like one of Klaw's heists, or something like that. I'm here to show your day-to-day lives, to connect people down there in NYC with what's going on over their heads."

"And how is it shaping up so far?"

"To be honest, I wasn't expecting to come in through the freight dock and into a firefight. I didn't see that coming. Or the air hose I walked into right afterwards. I don't normally drink while I'm working, but I'm going to need that Scotch to settle my nerves."

Megan turned to the hovering camera drone beside her. "Delete the last ten seconds, please."

Then she faced back towards Bruce. "So Dr Banner - what brings a former university research chemist to Feynman Station?"

Bruce laughed, a slightly hollow sound for such a rangy man. "Unemployment. The faculty thought I'd destroyed the lab myself, and I wasn't any more insured for 'suspected arson' than I was for 'spontaneous teratogenesis'. They repossessed everything - my house, my car, my research, even my shoes." Bruce waved a huge unshod foot above the table for a moment to illustrate this point. "I slept on a friend's couch for a month, shooting 'Dr Beast Does Chemistry' videos for the internet and living on the ad revenue. When I'd saved up enough, I bought a shuttle ticket up here, and I've not looked back."

"But the mercenary life is a pretty hard one. I mean, you're obviously in great shape, but aren't there spacer jobs with less gunfire?"

"Sure. I just kind of fell into this. I advertised as a chemist, and Rocket got in touch to ask if I could make a batch of HNC."

"HNC?"

"Heptanitrocubane. A molecule shaped like a tiny brick. It's one of the best subnuclear explosives in the world. Rocket found me a place to work, and I made it for him. And then we used it to steal a thousand maser rifles from a band of Kree extremists. I was hooked. Rocket worries, you know, that we might be the bad guys. But although it's dirty work, we've saved a lot of lives - human, Kree, all sorts - over the past few years."

"Go on..."

"He'll probably make you edit this bit out, but Rocket's a great fellow - a born leader, even. He attracts the loyalty of some remarkable people, but he's never set himself up as any kind of commander. He just points us in the direction of the action, and it works."

"Does it always work?"

"Not always. But that's not Rocket's fault. We tangle with some unusual enemies, and not every problem can be solved with explosions, sadly."

"But explosions aren't your crew's only talent, are they?" Megan asked, with the placidity of a practised interviewer. But her eyes flicked around the room, seeking the source of her latest precognitive flash.

"Rocket always talks about his skill at not getting killed. And we've got another crew member who's possibly even better at it than him... ah, here she comes!"

Both of them looked simultaneously towards a side entrance, and the person who had just come in.

The crowds in the bar parted, each individual apparently unaware that they were doing so, leaving a clear space for the new arrival. She strode effortlessly up to the table where the blonde reporter was chatting to the blue-furred mercenary. The crowd closed up again behind her, men who would punch each other for spilling their beer apparently unaware that they had just given a slightly-built human brunette in a black flight-suit a clear six feet of personal space all the way from the door.

"Where's the tanuki?" she asked Banner without preamble. Her accent was slight but noticeable - a hint of Eastern Europe.

"At the bar, buying Scotch."

"Damn."

"Why? It's not like you drink... wine."

"Save the jokes, youngster. We're getting out of here." She glanced at Megan, as if noticing her for the first time. "Is she with us?"

"Oh, yes - this is Megan McLaren. Let me introduce -"

"Not now," snapped the new arrival. "Let's grab Rocket and get somewhere defensible. Something's following me." Then she looked directly at Megan. "You will turn off your dronecam immediately."

Megan suddenly developed a glassy expression and spoke to the hovering robot. "Off." she ordered, and once the LEDs on it had gone out, she put it away in a small satchel and turned back to the table as though nothing had happened. At that moment, Rocket returned, carrying three glasses on a little tray.

"Oh, hey, Lil -" he began, but the dark-haired woman swooped down and grabbed him with one hand, and sat him on the table. The tray and its contents smashed to the floor, provoking a brief look of anguish from Banner.

"We need to get somewhere we can defend ourselves. I'm being followed by something that never stops."

Rocket didn't need telling twice. He leapt up on Bruce's shoulders, and gestured towards a doorway. "That one leads to D&L. Let's go!"

To Megan, the moments that followed were a baffling series of hasty turns down increasingly stark and functional station corridors. Eventually the four of them barrelled into a part-glazed control cabin, and Banner immediately hit the door switches. As the door slammed shut, Megan glanced out at the airlock beyond. At the far end, a set of reinforced doors were plastered with warnings that there was hard vacuum beyond.

There was a moment's silence, and then Bruce spoke. "All right. What's so terrible that it's got the Most Dangerous Woman in the Universe scared?"

"The thing that's after me - it's unliving."

"Your old man?" Rocket asked warily.

"No, my associates haven't reported any change - my father is still in the vault in Cluj-Napoca. I don't think it's one of us at all - it's some kind of undead that I've never encountered."

"You saw it?" Bruce queried.

"No - but I can feel its presence. It's here on the station with us right now. Getting closer."

Megan nodded. "It's going to come through that door in about three minutes."

"More precognition?" Banner inquired, and started fiddling with a CCTV bank at the far side of the cabin.

In the comparative silence, Megan asked, "So who are you?"

"Ach, this is a bad moment. But I am Lilith, Countess Dracula, if you must know." And she bared a pair of needle-sharp fangs, as if to make her point.

"Here, Rocket - look at this." Bruce beckoned his comrade over to the screen.

Rocket uttered a string of syllables in languages that seemed to include Romanian, Cantonese, Kree, Japanese and maybe Tanuki. "I'll go and meet him," he said after a moment.

"You sure?" asked Bruce.

"Yeah. I've got my emergency tank on. If you need to vent the lock, do it. You've seen _Wall-E_ , right?"

"Uh, OK. It's your pelt on the line, my friend. Stay safe." And Bruce strode over and raised the door just far enough for Rocket to slip under, his arsenal rattling against the lower edge.

For a few seconds, Rocket was alone in the empty dock. Then the door from the service corridor opened, and a human-sized figure stepped through. Rocket drew in his breath sharply.

" _Wie geht's, Genosse_?" he asked in as level a voice as he could manage. " _Du siehst nicht so gut aus_."

The man stepped forward into the glare of the hangar lights. Megan could see that his face was grey and hollow-cheeked. What had once been a handsome fair-haired man was now a walking corpse, dressed in a beige boilersuit with an old-school pistol in a holster over the top.

The creature spoke, with a voice like an ice crevasse opening. " _So sehest du auch aus, Rakete, nach fünfzig Jahre im Grabe_."

Lilith leant forward and pressed a speaker control on the cabin console. " _Auf Englisch, bitte. Herr Doktor Banner spricht nicht so gut Deutsch_."

Rocket nodded curtly without turning back, and spoke again. "What do you want?"

The dead man sighed, a sound like the north wind, and then said, "Refuge. They're coming after me."

"Who's coming after you?" Lilith asked.

"My old squad."

"We killed them all," said Rocket flatly.

"And the Latverians killed me, Rocket. But I'm back, and so are they. Do you still need a pilot?"

"Always. How close is the squad?"

"They just landed. They'll be here in minutes."

"He's telling the truth," put in Megan over the speaker. "There's five more just like him on the way."

Rocket gestured for the dead man to approach the control booth. As soon as he was behind him, Rocket leapt onto the man's shoulder, and put a .5 hunting pistol to his ear. "All right, who are you and what have you done with Erich König?"

" _Sei kein Arschloch, Tanukichen. Ich bin nun Draugr, aber bin doch auch Erich_."

Rocket untensed a little at hearing his old nickname, and slowly lifted the gun away from the draugr's head.

Lilith tapped the mike impatiently. "It's him, Rocket. Get back in here before his old friends show up."

Bruce opened the door fully, and Erich strode heavily through the doorway with Rocket still clinging uneasily to his shoulders. Then the cabin door slammed shut, just as the hanger door on the far side burst open again to admit five more draugr, these ones in decaying Wehrmacht uniforms.

Rocket tapped a small radio frantically. "Come in... come in..."

The five draugr in the dock advanced, and levelled their guns at the control booth. The glass was in principle bulletproof, but the draugr's weapons, unlike their uniforms, were not WW2 vintage - they were recent-model Stark Industries anti-armour rifles. All at once, they fired, and the booth shook. Megan threw herself to the floor, expecting a shower of broken glass. It did not come, but when she looked, the window was scuffed, and several tiny cracks ran up from its lower edge. The draugr held their spot now, but as they were about to fire again, Banner punched a button on the control panel.

The bay doors opened onto the vastness of space. Megan felt her ears pop - although all the lock's doors were supposedly airtight, the damage to the control cabin had obviously caused a leak somewhere. And she saw the draugr slide sideways as the pressure difference began to propel them out towards the inky void. They fired again, but the dissipating atmosphere affected the aim, and all five shots went wide.

They did not get a chance to fire again. In a matter of moments, all five were torn to shreds by gunfire from the space outside the hangar. Dry skin and bone scattered into the far corners of the lock as cannon bullets pock-marked the deck. And then the source of the shots became apparent, as a comfortably-sized armoured freighter swooped in and landed in front of the cabin. Banner closed the lock doors, repressurised the hangar, and finally reopened the cabin door. As the five in the cabin emerged, the freighter's main door swung up to reveal a handsome dark-skinned man wearing a flight-suit like Banner's.

Countess Dracula brushed a little dust off her flight suit. "Your timing is as impeccable as ever, Commander."

The man smiled in response. "Thanks, Lil. Holy shit - undead Nazis. You really pick your enemies, Rocket."

Rocket flinched a little. "Hey! They were coming after Erich here. Who used to be a member of this crew, by the way. He quit the Hitler Youth to join me - the guys you just shot were his less astute comrades."

König nodded stiffly. "'Tis true."

The man looked Erich up and down. "He appears to be undead too. Are you sure about this, Rocket?"

Rocket shrugged, a gesture made more expressive by the amount of weaponry that moved up and down when he did it. "He seems to be the same guy, just... deader."

"Don't knock it," drawled Lilith.

Megan cleared her throat. "Can someone bring me up to speed, please?"

Bruce turned and made a gesture of introduction. "Megan McLaren, MCNY News, meet Commander James Rhodes, the fastest shot in the Solar System - otherwise known as Quicksilver."

Commander Rhodes saluted, and then beckoned the crew up the gangplank that extended below the door. "Come on - your arsenal might not bother the authorities here, Rocket, but ship cannon being fired into a dock sure will. Bruce, can you open the airlock remotely?"

Bruce grinned, a huge smile which revealed his inhuman dentition. "Already done. Let's go."

Rocket's crew piled into the ship's cockpit and buckled themselves in. Rhodey and Banner took the pilot and co-pilot positions, and at a nudge from Rocket, Erich took a seat just behind and between the two, positioned so he could see past Beast's extra-large chair and watch the two at the controls. Megan was still fumbling with her seatbelt when the ship lurched sharply backwards - she hadn't heard anyone say they were clear, but some communication had passed between the two men at the front, because the reverse thrusters could be heard roaring as the ship narrowly cleared the opening lock doors. With an easy hand on the joystick, Rhodey flipped the ship over to face the way it was travelling. Erich seemed to relax as he watched this, appearing to be a little less zombie-like, and a bit more like the man he had once been.

"So... Erich..." Rocket began, a little more cautiously than his usual manner. "Want to tell us what's up with you and your double-dead squaddies back there?"

"Ach... it was back in '39, just after the start of the war. We were sent by our patrol leader to see a man who was supposedly high up in the SS. He was some kind of wizard, I suppose. He had us stand to attention while he read from some old book in _Mittelhochdeutsch_ \- some waffle about the Norse gods, apparently."

"Yeah, and?"

"And nothing. We went and reported back, and were told we'd done a good job. A few weeks later I escaped, and eventually met you. And when we caught up with the rest of the patrol, you remember one of them was bragging about being the immortal master race?"

"Just before I shot him dead."

"Exactly. So that was that - we fought on, until Latveria in '61. And then I recall nothing else, until a few weeks ago. I woke up in a grave, and found that I was strong enough to dig my way out. People ran from me - some shot at me. I didn't need to eat any more, so I made my way by night to the old man in Cluj-Napoca who watches for Lilith's father. He wasn't sure what had happened to me, but he was prepared to talk. And he told me about the death of Thor - and how there were rumours the Odinson was back. And that was something that had been in the words the SS wizard had used - 'until a mortal lifts Mjolnir'. I guess this wasn't what he was aiming for, but it's what he got."

Lilith had been listening silently. Now she interjected. "Necromancers. Amateurs, the lot of them."

"I've been trying to get to Lilith and the rest of your crew to warn you - there may be more others than just the five we saw back there."

* * *

The crew fell to discussing other things, but before long they were interrupted. An Asian woman in early middle age put her head around the cockpit doorway. "I couldn't help overhearing - this some sort of reunion, Rocket?"

Rocket hopped down from his seat now that the ship's motion was stable, and looked up at her. "Yeah - this is Erich. The same guy as in the photo with Lil and me at the Festival of Britain. Erich, Megan - this is Monica, our sysadmin."

Megan turned in her seat and waved uneasily - the day was still moving much faster than she'd expected when she'd agreed to make a documentary. At the back of her mind, a thought formed: _Where is my camera-bot?_ She dismissed it.

Monica Chang waved back. "Hi - call me Grid, everyone else does."

Erich made a puzzled sound. "Grid?"

"Yeah - I run the ship's computer grid. Network, navigation, the works."

Bruce grinned another toothy grin. "People think I'm an all-rounder, but Monica leaves me in the dust when it comes to computers."

Megan suddenly clutched her head. "Something's coming! Another ship."

Rhodey looked at a bank of screens and shook his head. "No, there's nothing within -"

...and at that moment, a series of alarms went off, drowning out the end of his sentence.

"The new girl's right," said Monica. "The hyperspace analyser just triggered."

"New girl? Oh, right. Hi, I'm Megan."

"That's some talent you've got," said Rhodey. "You taken it to the old sensei yet?"

"Sensei?"

Monica laughed. "Rhodey winds me up like this. He means Charles Xavier, the _qi_ -powers guy. He could probably help you out."

Rocket leapt back onto his chair. "Save the career advice, humans. We've got company!"

* * *

A polished hardwood door opened in near silence. The room beyond was vast, and nearly empty - a deliberate gesture of restrained opulence in one of the highest buildings in Tokyo. From here, on a fine day, the whole of FreeState Edo could be seen. It was not a fine day, however, but the proverbial dark and stormy night. Someone was looking, all the same. The man who had opened the door crept forward, and knelt in supplication to the figure standing by the full-length window.

The creature at the window did not turn to face the newcomer, but spoke in a refined, clipped voice: "Report."

"Our agent on Feynman Station reports that the draugr were destroyed."

"'Destroyed'? By whom?"

"That gunner of theirs, my liege. His _qi_ powers are considerable. The entire crew got away, and it seems they took the rogue draugr with them."

"Indeed." The word was like the drawing of a long knife. "What about the reporter?"

"She's vanished. Nothing from her since she arrived at the Station bar."

The figure at the window paused before replying. Eventually it raised one hand, showing off its abnormally long fingers, and flexed them menacingly.

"Well, the draugr were a lucky windfall. You should hope the main plan works. I want my weapon back, and shall be... displeased if you fail."

* * *

The ship was being swarmed. Rhodey could fire the ship's cannon faster than Megan would have thought possible, but there were too many of the small fighters, and the mounts could not swivel fast enough.

"Something's not right," said Bruce as he took yet another evasive manoeuvre. "They're not shooting enough."

"They're _what_?" asked Rocket incredulously. "I'd like it if they'd shoot even less, myself!"

"No, I mean they're deliberately pulling their punches. And look," - Bruce reached a flexible toe out and swiped up an image on a screen at one side of the cockpit. "- every one of these is a two-seater fighter with only a single occupant."

"They're coming in!" Megan exclaimed. "Or at least, they will be. They're going to board us."

"Where do they enter?" asked Lilith, strapping a pair of pistols on.

"I saw a big room with crates bolted to the walls - they came in through a big door there."

"Cargo hold." Rocket confirmed. "Erich, can you take over for Rhodey?"

"I think so." Erich replied cautiously.

"Do it, then. We need to welcome our visitors."

Lilith pulled two more pistols from under her seat and presented them to Megan. "Can you shoot?"

"I guess - it's been a while, though."

"You'll do." Lilith said briskly. Without further exchange, she followed Rocket down the narrow gangway leading aft. Megan followed, and she knew from the bootsteps behind her that Rhodey was coming after. Monica joined them at the door into the main cargo hold, also carrying a Stark Industries autopistol. A thud shook the vessel.

"They're here." said Rhodey grimly.

A horrible thought struck Megan. Had she just _caused_ the boarding by predicting it? Rhodey had been flying the ship well, and evading the attackers. Now it was in the hands of a dead man, and the enemy had managed to catch them.

Further philosophy was prevented when Lilith seized Megan's wrist in a grip far stronger than a woman of her build should have been able to manage, and dragged her through into the hold. She crouched behind a crate, as the rear airlock hissed open. There was a cacophony of guns being readied, but no-one entered.

Megan whispered, hoping the crew could hear her. "They're priming a grenade."

"I've got this," announced Rocket.

Moments later, a cylindrical object was tossed into the hold. Rocket was there waiting for it; he grabbed it and hurled it straight back where it had come from. There was a dull percussive sound, and a hiss of gas. Almost before anyone else had reacted, Monica was tapping rapidly on a wall-mounted terminal. The airlock closed, and there was a sucking sound.

"There - cycled the air." she explained. "That stun grenade should have taken out whoever threw it, but we can go in safely now."

Megan shook her head, and nodded back at the door the crew had entered through. As one, they turned their already-primed weapons in silence and pointed where she indicated.

A pair of guns came into view from the sides of the doorway, but they never fired. Afterwards, Megan thought Rhodey had shot one of the men, and Lilith the other, but she wasn't sure. Quickly, the crew fanned out through the ship's other passages. Muffled gunfire from somewhere announced that Rhodey had caught another intruder. Somewhere else, someone was yelling in Japanese - Rocket had found one too.

Eventually, they regrouped back in the cockpit. Lilith was the last to arrive, and she was followed by a slack-jawed mixed-race man in a black spacesuit. Several of the crew spoke at once:

Rocket: "Did you bite him?"  
Bruce: " _Black_ spacesuits? What idiot...?"  
Erich: "That's the last one."

Lilith held up a pale hand. "I did not bite him. He just looked into my eyes for long enough. And I presume the black spacesuits were chosen because they did not expect to be in space for more than a few moments. But we can ask him who his outfitter is..."

She turned and led the hypnotised man to stand in the centre of the group.

"Now, tell me... why did you board this ship?"

"To get the tanuki."

"The tanuki?"

"The little racoon-dog creature..."

"I know what a tanuki is, you fool. I mean, what's so special about him?"

Rocket's fur bristled. "Hey - I resemble that remark!"

The captive continued without looking at Rocket. "I don't know. We are not told the reasons."

"And who is 'we'?"

"We are the Hand clan."

Rocket spat on the floor. "Sons of roaches. Let's lock this guy up, and the one from the airlock. We're taking them home."

"Home?" asked Megan.

"Edo."

* * *

Once Bruce had set the ship's course for Tokyo Bay, the crew went about their business. Only Rocket stayed with Bruce in the cockpit.

"Why do you think they're trying to kidnap you?" Bruce asked.

"Beats me. They're screwing with the wrong tanuki."

"Well, quite. I wouldn't want to fight you."

"I wouldn't want to fight me, neither."

"So why, then?"

"'Cos I'm one of a kind, I guess."

"What, like that _Star Trek_ episode where the guy tries to put Data in a museum?"

"Nonono. The Hand know who I am - my history, I mean."

"Well, you tell a bunch of people, so why not? If Megan ever gets back to her studio, you'll get to broadcast your origin story on MCNY."

"No... I mean the Hand know who that alchemist was who made me. They know more about him than I do. I think they're collecting his handiwork."

"Because he was working for them."

"Exactly."

"And you're really sure you're the only one?"

"Painfully sure, my friend." Rocket spoke more quietly now, lacking his usual fire. "I ain't never had a mate - no, not even a friend who was my own species. Wild tanuki don't want to know me. I smell wrong to them, and it's not like they could talk back to me if they stuck around. I'm the only me there is."

Bruce looked ruefully at his reflection in a dead monitor. "Join the club, pal."

"Ehhh, I think you joined my club. I've been the only walking talking shooting tanuki for four and a half centuries."

Bruce frowned. "You have a point, Rocket."

* * *

Meanwhile, Megan, Lilith and Monica were sitting around the table in the ship's cramped galley.

"I guess you're one of us for the time being, Miss McLaren," said Monica.

"Call me Megan, please. Ah - one of us?" Various thoughts crossed her mind, making her quail and blush in quick succession.

"One of Rocket Raccoon's Howling Commandos," Monica explained.

"I guess so. I saw Rocket's face back there; he's not going to stop if he can help it. I'll radio MCNY and tell them I'm unavoidably detained."

"You could join us for real, you know." Lilith looked at Megan, and Megan felt as though the vampire was looking straight through her.

"It's true," said Monica. "Your precognition needs work, but it would be a very useful talent in a job like this."

"One thing I want to know, though," said Lilith slowly. "How did the bastards know where to find us? We're in the middle of nowhere."

Monica looked wary. "You think someone tipped them off?"

"Perhaps." Lilith drawled.

"I swear I didn't!" Megan's hands flew to her face. "I don't even know who the Hand clan are."

Monica ignored the implicit question. "If you're really shooting a documentary, where's your camera? I haven't seen you use one since you came aboard."

Lilith raised a hand and made a brief arcane gesture in front of Megan's eyes. Megan blinked, as though suddenly remembering something. She reached into her bag and pulled out the camera drone. Why hadn't she been using it? Monica held out her hand for the little device.

"May I?" she asked.

Megan handed the camera over, wordlessly. Why hadn't she had it switched on? What had Lilith done? And why did she suddenly feel anger and embarrassment, all at once?

Monica produced a tiny screwdriver, and poked and prodded the drone for a moment. Then she held up a tiny chip with a long thin wire trailing from it.

"Lil, Megan didn't tip the Hand off. This bug did."

"That was inside my camera? Shit. Wait - Lilith! You did some vampire hocus-pocus to me! You made me hide the camera, and then forget."

Megan was genuinely angry, and felt strangely grateful that the flush of her cheeks would be attributed to this, rather than to blushing.

Lilith was quite unmoved by the outburst. "So? I take my safety seriously. I didn't turn you into a drooling fool like that ninja stooge we locked up in the hold."

"And I'm supposed to be grateful for that?"

"Yes." Lilith said bluntly.

Monica sucked her teeth irritably. "Lilith, I get that you don't like being filmed. But we could have found this bug a lot faster if the drone had been switched on when Megan boarded the ship."

Lilith drew her lips into a thin line. There was silence for half a minute or so. Then she spoke.

"All right. Megan, I apologise. You may turn your camera back on. Just ask before pointing it at me, hm?"

Megan couldn't explain why she felt so very relieved.

* * *

The creature at the window of the high tower was not so calm this time.

"Those morons! And now the tracking device has stopped working as well. Are your men ninjas, or nincompoops?"

"My liege -"

"Shut up, you blunderer. I'm taking charge personally. You're relieved."

"Thank you, White Fox. I'm not worthy."

"Indeed you are not."

The creature turned to face the man, who now saw, for the last time, the exaggerated vulpine features of the kitsune who had led the clan since time immemorial. What ensued was brief, but it seemed like an eternity. When it was done, White Fox calmly opened his phone and requested a replacement carpet.

* * *

The entrance lobby of the skyscraper was typical of its kind: much taller than it needed to be, with walls and floor of expensively imported polished granite. At one end was a large unframed canvas by a rising young artist; facing it were a dozen clocks showing the time in Hartford, London, and ten of the Free Cities. Between them were a row of security gates, overtly defending the thirty-two passenger lifts from anyone entering from the street. More covertly, the men supervising the gates each had several concealed weapons.

There were eight of them on duty this morning, and half of them turned to face the people who had just come in from the street, an hour before the expected rush of suited salarymen. Two European-looking women in dirty flight-suits were walking between two black-suited men in sunglasses. The guards took a look at the two men - they seemed familiar, and each had one hand concealed inside his jacket. The men produced ID cards, and showed them to the guards. Both were valid company ID, and with the same clearance level as the guards' manager.

"We caught two of the spacers the board has been looking for," said one of the men, by way of explanation.

The guards nodded. It was that kind of building - people with concealed weapons and covert prisoners were to be expected. The gates opened, and the party made their way to one of the lifts.

* * *

"You know what I hate about modern technology?" Rocket asked rhetorically.

"The door switches are all too high?" offered Rhodey.

"No. Well, yeah, but no. Drones as small as me means anti-aircraft detection that can spot me. No more one-tanuki HALO drops for me."

"Don't count on it, Rocket." Monica didn't look up from her tablet PC. "Everything being networked means anti-aircraft systems I can shut down without even seeing them."

The five of them were on the roof of another skyscraper - one whose security guards were more amenable to being bribed - and while Rocket was donning a crash helmet and Monica was working on her tablet, Rhodey, Bruce and Erich were fiddling with a device that looked like a harpoon gun.

"OK, that should do it." said Bruce after a bit. "Monica, how about you?"

"It's as good as it's going to get. Rocket?"

"OK, time to live up to my name, I guess. Fire one."

Rhodey carefully steadied the harpoon gun, and Erich fired. A glinting spear shot up and out across the Tokyo skyline, trailing a steel cable behind it, before coming down on the roof of the tallest building in the neighbourhood. Erich turned a winch on the gun with unearthly strength, pulling the cable taut. Rocket pulled on tiny steel gauntlets, which matched a pair already on his hind feet. Then he climbed up and grasped the wire, so that he hung from it.

"Fire two." he said, his voice finally cracking with nervousness.

The jetpack on his back ignited, and he shot up along the wire with dizzying speed. His gauntlets were uncomfortably hot as he approached the parapet of the second tower, and he was grateful that the jetpack slowed enough for him to grab the railing before turning it off. Then he shed the gauntlets, and unloaded the bag that he was carrying. He took out a thicker cable, and tied it securely to a ventilation unit. Then he clipped the other end to the first cable, and let it slide back down to his comrades. Once he felt the second cable go taut, he repeated the process with the aluminium rope ladder which took up the majority of the space in his pack, and slid that down the thicker cable. At the same time, he reeled in the lighter cable, which Bruce had unhooked from the harpoon gun. Looking over the parapet, Rocket could see his crewmates begin to climb up the ladder. Monica went first, then Rhodey. Erich followed, and lastly Bruce. Each one tested the wire under their weight before starting - it had been calculated to bear all of them at once, but Bruce coming last was a concession to safety, as he was easily the largest of the Commandos.

It was only once Bruce was nearly halfway across, and Monica was nearly at the top, that Rocket discovered he had company. Two men in black crew-necks and carrying assault rifles came around the corner of a giant ventilator. Instinctively, Rocket tried to draw a gun, but there was nothing there - he had given all his weapons to Rhodey to save space for the ladder and cable. Instead, he ducked down and rolled under the raised platform on which the ventilation equipment stood. The two men came closer, and began to examine the cables which led over the edge. The two exchanged words in Japanese, discussing whether to untie the cables or just shoot the climbers.

"All right, let's just shoot them," one conceded.

Rocket heard the men grasp their guns, and struck.

It is quite hard to wield an assault rifle while a racoon-dog is biting your arm, but it was not _pure_ coincidence that the man managed to shoot his colleague instead of Monica. A split-second later, Monica herself grasped the railing with one hand, drew her pistol with the other, and shot the man that Rocket was attacking.

After a few more minutes, the group had reassembled on the rooftop, and Rocket had finished strapping on his arsenal. To lighten the load, he passed the spare steel cable to Monica.

"OK, let's do this." he said. "Welcome to the former Stark Tower. At least, the Tokyo version."

Just then, the dead guards' radios burst into life, requesting a routine check-in. Rocket looked at his crew - none of them who spoke Japanese had a deep enough voice to imitate the guards.

"Plan B," he announced.

Monica pulled out a cellphone and started making a call to the Tokyo police.

* * *

Megan was honing her skills on the fly.

"OK, there's a guy about to come in. His name's Takahashi."

Lilith quickly gave the two hypnotised ninja their next orders, moments before the door swung open.

Mr Takahashi was huge, and openly carried a gun. Megan tried to follow the very terse conversation he had with their 'captors', but too much of it seemed to be slang - or code.

And then there was a terrible pause, as though everyone was waiting for someone else to act.

Fortunately, Megan moved first. "You can go now," she said in English.

The two hypnotised guards turned and headed back to the lift. Takahashi, though, stepped closer, looming over the two women.

"What is that supposed to mean?" he asked in Japanese. "I command these men, not you."

Lilith did not flinch. "Of course you do, Mr Takahashi. You're clearly very important." She looked right at him. "You're going to take us to the boss yourself."

A glassy expression passed over Takahashi's face before lifting. "Come with me," he ordered. "You're wanted at the highest level."

Megan hadn't realised she was holding her breath until she stopped.

* * *

The top floor seemed to contain nothing but lift machinery, all labelled with names that made no sense unless you already knew the building. Rhodey found stairs down, and the crew descended.

But instead of the expected penthouse conference suite, they found themselves in a whitewashed corridor. Monica was busy again with her tablet.

"OK, I've got the doors unlocked. But there's no public reference to this place." she said after a minute.

"How about internal networks?" asked Bruce.

"Hold on... there's a second LAN... and a third one."

"Huh?"

"The second one has a nonsense name - I'm guessing that's the Hand clan's own network. The third one is encrypted, but its name is Weapon-X."

"So this is... a weapons lab?" Erich queried.

"Stark had this place built, so 'secret weapons lab' ain't a huge shocker. Let's check it out." Rocket decided.

The team advanced down the corridor, to where a pair of hospital-style double doors led off. Bruce held them open, and they all slipped inside. The room beyond was clearly a laboratory, but it was largely deserted. The work benches were all bare and clean, and there was a pungent smell of bleach. Rocket could smell something else, though. He walked over to a surgical waste bin, and carefully tore down the bag which hung from it. He couldn't open it, though - a primal reflex unused for centuries caused him to retch. Erich picked it up instead.

"Animal corpses," he said, looking inside. "Weasels, rabbits, rats. It looks like they hemorrhaged - or perhaps burst."

Bruce growled. When Rocket had recovered, he pointed to a door at the far end. "This isn't Stark's style. This is some new shit from the Hand. Let's keep going."

The door was supposed to be locked, but Monica had already disabled the lock before they reached it.

The next laboratory was not empty. The men at the benches mostly ducked for cover as the group entered, but one snatched up a gun and started shooting - as did the three guards standing beyond. Rhodey drew and fired as fast as he could, but one of the guards was nearly as fast, and mowed down the unarmed scientists before catching a bullet of his own. Monica had already shot the one armed researcher, and so the room fell silent as the shots stopped.

"Fuck." Rhodey holstered his gun, and looked at his hand, which was shaking.

"What the devil is this place?" asked Erich.

Rocket was looking up at a large perspex box mounted on the wall beside the door through which they had entered. He said nothing, but simply pointed. The box was labelled "Tanuki experiment #1". It was empty, and apparently unused.

"For you? Oh brother." said Bruce. He walked over to the bench where the armed scientist had been working. He pushed the corpse aside with a foot, and looked at the man's work. There was a little blood on the notes, but they were mostly in English, and still legible. There was also a rack of test tubes. Three were full of a faintly glowing blue liquid, and labelled with a device like a sideways 8.

"That guard was prepared to shoot unarmed men to keep this a secret," Rocket said. "What is it?"

Bruce scanned the notes quickly. "This Infinity Formula is supposed to grant immortality and intelligence. It's the stuff that was used on you, Rocket."

Rocket jumped up on the bench. "Really? Then why're there dead animals in the bins?"

Bruce frowned. "It's missing one ingredient... your blood, Rocket. Only a 10cc sample, at that. I think I could complete this, you know. We could save lives - or find you a mate at last."

Rocket shook his head. "No, Bruce. I was made to be a weapon, and that's what this is for - weapons. It's taken me long enough to be happy with who I'm made to be. I don't want to do this to anyone else. It's time to be the good guys. Got the explosives, Erich?"

* * *

Outside the former Stark Tower, the police were already cordoning off the streets. The anonymous bomb threat had been serious enough, but now the rope ladder hanging hundreds of feet above the street had been noticed. A team was going up to investigate, but it promised to be a slow job, for fear of booby-traps.

* * *

Megan and Lilith exchanged glances. This was going far more smoothly than they had expected. Takahashi had just gone into the boardroom to announce their presence, leaving them with two more armed guards. Lilith had not troubled to charm these guards - Takahashi had ordered them to keep the two women safe, while he went in to talk to the boss.

Megan suddenly screwed up her eyes.

"He's not charmed any more." she whispered.

"Hm?" Lilith did not move her lips.

"He comes back out and shoots us."

"Shit. OK..."

Lilith turned to face one of the guards, and addressed him in Japanese. "Listen to me. Mr Takahashi's had a fit. He's going to come out and start shooting. You need to stop him."

The guard looked nonplussed, as though unsure of what he had been told. He did not object, however.

Then the door opened, and Takahashi emerged, gun already drawn. The guard Lilith had spoken to raised his gun, and very deliberately shot his boss in the right arm. Takahashi merely grunted, and caught his falling pistol in his left hand, and raised it again. But his shot went wild all the same, as something behind the women distracted him. Gunfire erupted in the lobby from all sides, and Megan instinctively hit the floor. Lilith, however, dived in and bit the man she had charmed in the neck. He spasmed for a moment, and then went limp. The other guard shot directly through his dying colleague to hit Lilith's torso, but she ignored the wound. Megan risked a glance back to see who the newcomers were, and breathed a sigh of relief as she saw Banner hurling a man down a staircase. Rhodes and Rocket emerged from the stairwell, and took out Takahashi and the remaining guard.

Lilith discarded the man she had drained. Aside from bullet holes in her flight suit, she gave no indication of having been shot herself. She pulled Megan to her feet, and they stood shoulder to shoulder with the rest of the crew as Rocket climbed on Bruce's shoulders and the massive Beast kicked the boardroom door open.

The room beyond was immense, occupying most of the floor. Directly opposite was a huge plate-glass window. Megan looked at it, and gasped "Erich!"

No-one else paid her exclamation any attention - not even Erich himself - because at the same moment they saw their quarry. An abnormally tall, slender man sat at one end of a long table. He beckoned them in, and as they entered, they saw that his head was not a human head at all, but that of a gigantic fox with glittering fangs.

"So kind of you, _Bohiya no Tanuki_ , to return yourself to me like this. After you murdered your creator all those years ago, I had all but given up hope of recovering my weapon. If you'd kept a lower profile, you might have got away with it. But thanks to the marvels of radio, I've been homing in on you since 1946. Making the jump to space was a smart move, but you can't run forever, tanuki. You're mine now. I'm going to re-create the alchemist's formula and apply it to something better... I'm importing a wolverine."

Somewhere far away, an alarm was ringing, presumably summoning more guards. Rocket ignored it, and raised his heavy pistol.

"Go ahead, little one. See if I care." White Fox taunted.

Rocket took him at his word, and fired. Faster than sight, the kitsune reached out and grabbed the bullet from the air, before throwing it up and catching it again.

He laughed. "You fools. My _qi_ powers are superior to anything you could possibly have. When the False Dragon locked away mortals' _qi_ , we kitsune were untouched. I have been practising these techniques for centuries. And now all of you are going to die - the tanuki will be last, and very slow."

He leapt forward then, clearing the long axis of the table at a single bound, and collided with Bruce's chest. The Beast was sent flying, his claws tearing chunks out of the brand-new carpet as he went. Before Bruce could stand again, White Fox lashed out at Lilith, hurling her back into the lobby. Rhodey began shooting, but White Fox dodged most of the bullets and deflected the rest. He paid no attention to Megan or Monica, as though certain that neither woman could threaten him.

Megan noticed that Monica was carrying the bag she had seen Rocket with earlier. Quickly, she asked the hacker for it, and then ducked to the floor. Monica dived under the table, and watched the unfolding battle while searching for an opening for her own shot.

The building shook with an explosion.

Rocket was the one to laugh this time. "Catch me if you can. That was your lab going up in smoke."

"Then I'll just have to keep you alive long enough to build another," the kitsune replied, and leapt at Rocket. The tanuki loosed off a rocket-propelled grenade, which went wide.

"Missed!" jeered the kitsune as he pinned Rocket down with a clawed hand.

" _So glaub' ich nicht_ ," said Erich.

It all happened at once: Megan joined Monica under the table. Monica fired. White Fox let go of Rocket for a moment in order to catch the bullet. Erich held up a block of explosives in his left hand, and charged White Fox. Rocket's grenade exploded, blowing the huge window outwards in a shower of shards. Erich tackled the kitsune, and dragged him out of the shattered frame, plunging towards the street.

"No!" cried every Commando in unison. A muffled explosion sounded from far below.

Bruce and Lilith recovered in time to run to the edge with the others and look down.

There, far below, was a crater in the road surface where the bomb had gone off.

And hanging above it, on the end of a steel cable, was Erich. He waved feebly.

It was Lilith who asked the question.

"What just happened?"

Megan answered. "When we opened the door, I had a vision of Erich falling out of the window. So I got the cable that Rocket gave Monica, and clipped it to Erich's flight suit. I just managed to clip the other end to the table in time."

Lilith pulled a face, and would have sucked in her breath if she had any. "Damn lucky he's undead, or you'd be looking at a regular corpse by now. You did good, Megan."

Megan wasn't ashamed to blush this time.

Bruce began hauling on the cable, while the others looked around for an exit, as thundering feet were heard on the stairs...

**Author's Note:**

> They'll escape, of course - right into another wild adventure.
> 
> In the original draft, a short crossover began here.


End file.
